Ten years Today
by kirana44
Summary: Ten years had passed already, but sometimes it's hard to move on...Thiefshipping oneshot.


An old favourite. :D I'll just be uploading my latest stuff, the stuff I think is the best, so yeah. Of all my playlist drabbles, this is one of the ones I likes the most for obvious reasons.

Although I only just now realised what a major cock-up I made with this; the tomb place literally collapsed, didn't it? Dammit.

Marik/Malik Ishtar (I spell it with an r), Yami Bakura and the world of Yu-Gi-Oh! all belong to Kazuki Takahashi, and the song "10 years today" belongs to Bullet for my Valentine (aka GODS ON EARTH)

* * *

It had been a decade already. Ten years since he was relieved of his duty as tomb guardian. Ten years since the Pharaoh regained his memories and set the world back in balance. And it was ten years since his love had vanished back into oblivion. A whole decade. Time had both dragged and danced past him. Marik stood before the memory tablet, flowers in hand. He knew the dreaded Thief King would have hated them, but he did it anyway, if not for him, than for himself. He looked around and saw that he wasn't the only one with that idea. Flowers and other gifts littered the floor, but they were for the pharaoh, not the thief. After all, who cared for the villain of the story? Who actually, genuinely cared for the man who tried to destroy the world?

Marik cared. He knew he shouldn't have, but he did. He cared very deeply for the Thief King Bakura, the man whose soul had been possessed by Zorc Necrophades, ruler of all evil. He cared very much for the man who was the devil's servant, the man who wanted to obliterate this world and everything in it, all because of hate and malice. Marik sighed. He had grasped the opportunity to travel the world, to experience everything he possibly could in the time he had left, and he had loved every second of it, but all he felt now was tiredness. He was tired and bored and lonely, so, so lonely for people he could never see again, no matter how hard he wished. A lot of things had changed in ten years.

"You know, it's funny," he said aloud, praying that he could be heard, "I only ever realised how much I missed you when I came back here. I travelled, I had fun, but now I'm here, I almost…regret the time I've spent without you. Isn't that strange?" he sighed again, knowing he couldn't be heard, that he'd never hear that laugh again. Only in his dreams would he hear it.

It was his dreams that made him come back to Egypt, to the tablet, to the place where Yami Bakura had taken his last stand. His dreams of echoing laughter and the feeling that he wasn't alone, that no matter how far he travelled he'd never, ever be alone. It was only then that he had noticed the date and realised he had to visit the stone. He had never really given it a thought, but he knew he missed the devil. He had always felt an odd presence at times during his trip, knowing nothing except that it was familiar. A ghost? But ghosts never haunted _people_. They haunted _places_, not people. Besides, even if it **was** a ghost, it wouldn't be Bakura. Marik didn't know where his soul was. He wasn't sure it even existed anymore. Marik's fist gripped the flowers tighter at the thought, forgetting what they were. Roses. He knew it was corny and clichéd, but he had brought black roses. The thorns dug into his palm, drawing thin trails of blood. He dropped them to the ground with a curse. He looked at his palm, then the roses. He picked them up and approached the stone, holding them parallel to the ground. He hesitated for a moment, hoping - praying - that the thief's soul was still out there somewhere. Where would it be, though? Heaven? Hell? Purgatory? He thought, then realised he didn't really care. He could have been in the Shadow Realm for all Marik cared, as long as he still lived…he laughed at his choice of words.

"Still alive…it must be odd for a soul who's been alive for 3000 years to suddenly…be gone. Vanished. Bakura, where the hell are you? Can you still…hear me, see me? Do you know that I miss you?" he said aloud again, wishing with all his might for his words to be heard. He smiled and shrugged.

"God, I sound like such a girl. I guess it doesn't matter…you never **were** one for showing your feelings. You never expressed any feelings of affection, even when I was around. You had a perfect poker face. If you can't hear me, it's fine, I guess. I think this trip was as much for me as it was for you."

Marik noticed that the shadows inside the underground cavern had grown darker, and the last of the day's sunlight was gently filtering in. He shivered in the cold.

"I think I've stayed here long enough…but I don't know if I've said all I needed to say. I guess…have a good time in the afterlife. I hope you got a good spot in heaven, but that might be asking a bit much considering. I don't know if you can hear me, but…I'll never forget you. I'll never forget the time you spent with me, how much it meant to me. No matter how old and senile I get, I won't forget. So, thank you, and…goodbye." He released his hand, letting the roses fall to the floor.

_No, thank **you**, Marik._

The voice echoed throughout the tomb, followed by laughter. A dark, mocking laugh that rang loudly in Marik's ears. He spun round, looking for the source, not finding one. At that moment, he heard the voice say something that chilled his blood.

_Thanks to this, I cannot die. Remember I will be watching you. See you in Hell, Marik!_

He looked around, wondering if it was some sort of trick.

"Bakura? Bakura, is that you?"

All he heard in reply was more laughter. A light breeze swept through the tomb, taking the fading sound with it.

"Bakura? Are you…still there?"

There was no reply. Whatever it was that spoke to him was gone. He was alone. Marik closed his eyes. He played back what the voice had said, what it sounded like. It was definitely Bakura. There was no mistaking that voice, dark, almost maniacal in tone. He smiled.

"So, you'll "see me in hell," eh, Bakura? Not bloody likely." His smile deepened. It was good to know his evil friend was still around in spirit. He turned and, giving the memory tablet one last look over his shoulder, left the room.


End file.
